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OTHNIEL AND HIS SONS disembarked the ferry after the ferryman secured it to the post on the river bank. It took some time to have the ox pull the cart up the bank onto level ground without cargo falling off and into the water.
As they worked at it, young Habuk said, "But I don't understand, Papa. If El Elyon changed his name from Yacov to Yisrael, why did we still call ourselves by the old name in your day?"
Othniel thought about this for a moment, while keeping the rope taut and using simple words to coax the ox toward him.
"Well, I don't have a good answer, Son. If our god changes something, we should use the new name and quit using the old one. But it's hard to break a habit once it's formed. That's why I'm always telling you and your brother to form good habits instead of bad ones."
"Why does he change names in the first place, though?" asked Yaghaz, steadying the cart as it rolled slowly uphill, pitching and rocking on the uneven ground.
"Yacov meant 'deceiver' or 'heel grabber'," Othniel explained. "Not a good name."
The boys chuckled in agreement.
"Not a name suitable for a nation set aside by El Elyon, either," Othniel added. Trapping the rope between his arm and side for a moment, he mimed grappling with a huge opponent. "But Yisrael–'He Wrestles With God'–we fight to keep hold of our god. We know blessing comes from him; and not from what we can get from other people by deception. It's like, by changing our name, El Elyon let us divorce from our past, and start fresh."
The boys nodded, apparently accepting his rationale.
As the cart ascended the bank, one wheel dropped into a hole hidden by grass, and the cart was jolted. Cargo shifted, threatening to fall, and Yaghaz moved his hands from the cart rails to stabilize it.
"Careful with the white silk," Othniel warned him. "It gets dirty easily."
"Yes, Father," Yaghaz replied, wrapping a cloth around his dirty hand, so he could stabilize the bolt of white silk, resting atop the expensive blue one.
The cart crested the bank and leveled off on flat ground. They all sighed with relief. Even the ox snorted, as if to share their sentiment.
Without falling cargo to worry about now, the scenery triggered memories in Othniel's mind. He had spent so much time in this area so many years ago, waves of nostalgia assailed him.
"Why are you giving Salmon something so expensive?" asked Habuk, pointing to the blue silk (he was not yet tall enough to reach it).
Jarred from his reminiscing, Othniel said, "Salmon is a good friend. He and I went through...it's hard to explain, Son."
"You don't buy our other friends gifts like this," Yaghaz noted.
"It's a miraculous occasion," Othniel explained. "Rachav was barren. El Elyon opened her womb, and she has borne a son to Salmon. It's something to be celebrated, and commemorated."
"Mother said the baby's name is Boaz," Habuk announced, proud of himself for having this information to relay–as if his father and brother hadn't heard the news already.
"There's going to be a big feast," Othniel said. "Many of us who served under Salmon during the war will be there. Some of them I haven't seen much since the war. Even Pinchas, our High Priest, is visiting."
For a short time, there was no sound but the steps of the ox and the creaking of the cart wheels. But conversation never ceased for long with these boys.
Taking in the scenery all around him, Yaghaz said, "The other side of the river is beautiful; but this is very pretty, too. It sure is nicer than the Negeb, anyway."
"The Negeb is not so bad," Othniel replied. "Especially with the springs your grandfather gave us."
"Well, the oases are nice," Yaghaz admitted. "But here, there's green grass as far as you can see. And trees."
Othniel brought the ox to a halt by the old circular pile of rocks. He sighed, looking over the old camp site.
"What's this for?" Habuk asked, staring at the stack of stones.
Othniel smiled, leaning back against the cart. "I'm glad you asked, Son. I'm going to tell you about some things that happened right where we're standing. And one day, you've got to remember and tell your own children what I'm about to tell you. Those rocks were taken from the bed of the Yarden."
Yaghaz looked back at the swift, muddy river. "How?"
"It was springtime," Othniel said. "The river was at flood stage. Moshe had just died, and Y'hoshua had been appointed to lead us into the land that was promised to us..."
The boys listened to their father with rapt attention. He conjured up scenes in their young imaginations, but also pointed to things they could see with their eyes from where they sat. He pointed to the monument before them–the namesake of Stone Circle; to the river; to the ruins of Bet-Yariq; to the mountains in the west, where Ahyee and Bet-El were located. He pointed to the tree where he and their mother talked, the time the quake threw her to the ground; and the spot where they sat together daydreaming of a home and family.
THE MAN AND HIS SONS assumed nobody else was present. And as far as their eyes could see, that was true. But they weren't alone. Someone watched them.
I don't just mean myself...Rachivel. On the plains of Bet-Yariq, at the very spot where he had met Y'hoshua with a drawn sword years before, Hashem hovered beside Mikhayel, looking on. The enormous Warrior and his Commander observed Othniel passing down the story of the events during Y'hoshua's tenure as judge and field marshal.
When Othniel got to the point in the story in which Y'hoshua warned Yisrael that the war between the gods, and their proxies, was far from over, Hashem and Mikhayel pulled their attention from the humans to glance at each other briefly; then focused their perception across the Yarden.
In the secret planes which overlapped the world of the humans, a line of angry, vengeful gods faced them, glaring.
Waiting.
